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Not every San Diegan loves fish tacos and the beach. Can't believe it? Meet the locals who go against the grain.
I hate the sun and hot weather! And I seriously strive to be as pale as possible. Fashion magazines have been trying to sell me for years, but I positively hate the look of tanned skin. When your beauty icon is Morticia Addams, living in a city that gets more than 250 sunny days every year is not ideal. And temperatures over 75 degrees? That immediately sends me running to the nearest (and preferably darkest) air-conditioned bar. As someone at the San Diego Tourism Authority whose job it is to market our famously sunny, warm weather around the world, imagine the looks of confusion I get from my coworkers when I get overly excited about rainy, gloomy weather!
—Candice Eley, 34, City Heights
I’m not a huge outdoors guy. There’s wolves out there, grizzlies, mountain lions, coyotes—lots of ways you can die. You can fall off a cliff, or get skin cancer from the sun.
But if we’re being honest, I’m just lazy.
Nary a week goes by without some Facebook invite or group text invitation to hike or camp or do some other outdoor activity. Most of the time I just don’t reply. I don’t feel like I’m missing out on the social aspect. There are lots of ways to be social. I can socialize online, or at Nunu’s.
If mankind was meant to spend significant portions of their days in the wilderness, why have we evolved to settle, domesticate cats and dogs, and build cities? What I’m trying to say is, voluntarily taking yourself out of a safe, comfortable environment and into the hunting grounds of bears, cougars, and gnats seems crazy to me. You’re basically rejecting millennia of human progress, and I find that offensive.
—Joe Yerardi, 28, Ocean Beach
I hate yoga. I might be the only white woman on earth who does. I recently moved to San Diego from Brooklyn, and everyone there does yoga. Women, children, babies, men with topknots. There, I felt like a weirdo; here, I feel like a total freak! It’s like a religion here. Every park and beach has a cluster of yogis saluting the sun in fashionable athleisure wear.
I hate yoga for two reasons: The first is that my mind never stops moving. Sitting in a quiet room for an hour is a nightmare for me. By the time the class is done, I’ve thought about that one ex-boyfriend from college who terrorized my cat, the conversation I had with a stranger at Target when I forgot the word “frittata,” how the main character from Felicity might be a sociopath, and about a million other ridiculous things that leave me a sweaty, anxious mess.
The second reason is that the reality never measures up to the fantasy on Instagram. In pictures, yoga is all inversion, insane balance, and circus-level flexibility. The reality is trying not to let your sweaty palms slip out from under you while you downward dog for fifty minutes—and hold in a fart. I’d rather be watching Felicity.
—Nicole Steadman, 40, Rolando Park
It’s been more than two years since I’ve been to the beach. The last time was for a friend’s daytime birthday party, when I trudged through the hot and dusty sand to the spot they’d picked out. The sun reflected off the ocean into my eyes, the wind whipped my hair into my mouth, and I started thinking about when I could go home.
I’m happier running on the cement boardwalk by the water—please don’t make me walk onto the sand. I’m scared of waves, and don’t even want to wade as they crash around me, let alone trying to body board, or worse, surf.
Going to the beach feels like a whole lot of work with no reward—you have to remember to pack a million things and keep the sand off your phone and anything else you care about. And whenever I do get my towel spread out, I immediately have to pee. Then what am I supposed to do?
My deep dislike of the beach sometimes makes me feel silly for wasting my time in San Diego, especially when I meet people while out of town. “You live in San Diego?” they say, sounding mystified. “You must go to the beach all the time.”
—Claire Trageser, 33, El Cerrito
Confessions of the Un-Diegans
My spouse and I are lucky enough to live in my mother’s old house in Mira Mesa, which means affordable rent, a long commute to downtown, and the occasional feeling of wearing an unconvincing Earthling disguise. Our immediate neighbors are retired marines who’ve been kind enough not to open debate on the protest signs in our windows but gently remind us when our infrequent front-yard maintenance begins to devalue their property. Walking into any given neighborhood restaurant means becoming outnumbered by minors at least five-to-one, and so far we’ve stumbled into two street fairs that we might’ve known about if only we hadn’t missed the PTA newsletter. Choosing to be child-free has definitely brought us some skepticism and disapproval—though not nearly as much as most parents encounter. (Turns out, judging the family planning decisions of relatives and strangers alike is a pretty popular human pastime.) We’ll try our best to make the world better for the next generation in ways besides duplicating ourselves into it, and put more trust in karma than DNA guilt that someone will be there to help us in turn when our body parts start falling off.
—Dan Letchworth, 32, Mira Mesa
As a Navy sailor for more than 22 years, I climbed the ranks to senior chief and spent more than 13 years at sea before retiring. Still, ask me to swim a lap and forget it! I passed my test by doing an upside-down froggy stroke there and back, there and back, and that was it. It’s a good thing we spent most of our time on the ship and not actually in the water.
—Fernando R., 43, University Heights
I don’t hide the fact that I hate most sports. During the Chargers stadium fiasco, when anyone (read: everyone) asked if I was upset about them leaving, I would say, “Good riddance to bad rubbish.” When my wife dragged me to Padres Opening Day and the guy next to me asked what I thought about their prospects for the season, I replied, “Sorry, bro, I’m just here for the expensive beer.” The worst part about going to a sporting event is when she makes me wear clothing to back a team I know absolutely nothing about—and about which I care even less. Mainly because it opens me up for all kinds of conversations about player stats, teams, etc., that I have no interest in entertaining. I’m a sporty-enough-looking guy, so people assume I have an opinion about football or baseball, and I do: I think they’re a huge waste of my money and time.
—Eddie P., 39, Eastlake
“What’s your dream car?” someone asked me at a party recently. Before I could even respond, my friend answered for me: “A subway pass.”
Yes, I would much rather have a subway pass in a city with reliable public transit than a lifetime supply of snazzy cars. Though great for hauling groceries and taking road trips, owning a car is a pain. The cleaning, the tire rotation, the oil changes, trips to the mechanic, the traffic, the thought of accidents—nope, not worth it even for those top-down, radio-blasting long drives.
I get it. When you grow up in a place with a strong car culture, you readily accept parallel parking. But I’ve hardly ever needed those four wheels—not in Chicago where I went to college, or Manhattan where the subway and my two feet were all I needed. To boot, I grew up in New Jersey, one of two states (the other is Oregon) where drivers don’t pump their own gas. But while deciding to move to San Diego four years ago, somehow I glossed over the fact that I would be that person who talks about freeway traffic, not subway stops. Me, the person who didn’t even know how to fill a gas tank.
I happen to live in pedestrian-friendly Hillcrest, and in times when I must drive myself, I keep it simple. It took me a full year to get the guts to drive to La Jolla. (At this point, I’ve gone as far north as Oceanside.) Pumping gas? I have the hang of it… mostly.
—Archana Ram, 32, Hillcrestâ©
I’ve never liked seafood, and as a native San Diegan, so many people are perplexed by that. I eat all other meat (and anything else, for that matter!)—just not seafood. I really don’t like the texture. Also, having grown up swimming in the ocean frequently, the concept of eating something that’s been swimming alongside me has always creeped me out.
It comes up all the time, especially at business lunches or dinners. When there are clients in town, it’s typical for them to want to go to a seafood restaurant. I’ve choked down my fair share of ahi and shrimp. I draw the line at octopus—I lie and say I’m allergic.
—Rebecca Buddingh, 25, North Park
Confessions of the Un-Diegans
Vanessa Mckeown
I’m a substitute teacher, so I work in a different part of the county every day. To get there, I usually ride my bike, or maybe take public transportation for part of the way. If I go to Clairemont, I’ll bike in the beginning, but since Clairemont is a bit of a climb, I’ll load my bicycle on the bus in the morning so I don’t sweat as much. But I always have my bicycle with me, and sometimes carry extra clothes for the ride home.
The longest it’s ever taken me to get to work is about two hours. At least I’m riding around having fun and not stuck in traffic.
I could get a car, but I have a general unwillingness to drive. It’s never something I enjoyed doing. I’ve been behind the wheel and it’s so nerve-wracking. Riding my bike has a calming and meditative effect on me.
It’s also allowed me to meet a community of riders. You never think to wave and say hello to a passing car, but cyclists are always happy to see one another.
—Ramone Sanchez, 29, National City
I found out I was allergic to gluten about four years ago, and it definitely comes up in my dating life. I don’t want to bring up that I’m gluten free right off the bat, so on a first date I’ll research the restaurant to make sure there’s something I can eat. But that makes it hard to be spontaneous.
There have been a couple instances when, because so many people are gluten-free only because of the fad, my dates didn’t believe me. I had to say, “No, this will really make me sick,” and it still got under their skin. Those guys didn’t last very long.
I used to love going brewery tasting, but now I’m more limited in where I can go. Also: donuts. I can’t go to Donut Bar, because they have nothing for me. I haven’t eaten a donut in years.
—Alex Bell, 27, Little Italy
It may contradict everything you think about Mexican eating habits, but in all my 59 years as a Mexican woman, I’ve never liked cheese or spicy food. Much to the disappointment of my mother when I was growing up and to the surprise of my friends, who look at me in shock when I ask servers at Mexican restaurants to hold the cheese on whatever I order. I’ve heard more than once, “What kind of Mexican doesn’t like cheese?” This kind!
—Mary C., 59, Chula Vista
Confessions of the Un-Diegans
“San Diegans are obsessed with beer. People talk about beer all the time—what beers they’ve tasted, what breweries they’ve tried. I’m an artist and the obsession even shows up at art exhibitions. I also live in the East Village, and every block seems to have a craft beer place. I feel like I’m the only person who doesn’t drink beer.”
—Michael Freeby, 26, East Village
“I’ve lived in San Diego my whole life and just can’t get behind the craft beer scene. I’ll drink shots and cocktails, but to me, beer just tastes like piss. And craft beer tastes like piss with a fancy label and expensive price tag.”
—CJ P., 45, Santee
“I drink ciders and sours hoping they’ll be my gateway into the craft beer scene, but I just can’t shake the memories of cheap keg beer from college. I just stick with wine and liquor to play it safe.”
—Heather Pearl, 33, Crown Point
“I have never been a beer fan and I know that’s heresy, but give me a cocktail or a shot any day. I just never acquired the taste for it. If I do drink beer it’s a Corona with lime.”
—William Rodriguez-Kennedy, 29, Talmadge
“I have been a good sport and tried many types of beer—IPAs, ales, stouts, hefeweizens—but they all make me gag with instant regret. My husband adores good beer, so for years he harassed me to try whatever he was drinking, hoping that I would have some kind of beer epiphany. It wasn’t until I ugly-cried at a brewery that he understood the depths of my disgust.”
—Danielle Cervantes Stephens, 41, Spring Valley
Confessions of the Un-Diegans
PARTNER CONTENT
Vanessa Mckeown
As NASCAR lands in San Diego this weekend, a recently burgled dad is irregularly excited
My 15-year-old daughter tried to steal our car this week, so I’m ready to become a NASCAR dad. It would be appropriate discipline. We just relocated to a very nice suburb within walking distance of her high school. The suburbs are like living in a Tesla commercial. I am pretty far from the wealthiest dad in this neighborhood (I am, in fact, the least wealthy dad in this ’hood), more than a few engineering degrees short of being in the running.
I’m fairly certain watching NASCAR is a violation of our HOA and a violation of my daughter’s emotional HOA. But NASCAR hits San Diego this weekend and I have a fever I’ve never felt before. I want to watch 111 drivers do dangerous things in cars and trucks on an active military base in the ocean. Since my lifelong exposure to NASCAR is limited to Talladega Nights and every single iteration of the movie Cars, I can only base my plan of attack on oafish stereotypes.
So while other neighbor dads are sizing bubble jackets for their golf simulators, I’m gonna grow a Ricky Bobby, run the extension cord for the TV out into the carport we share with six other condos, fill a cooler with a proper 80-20 split of Hamm’s and Mountain Dew, treat a lawn chair like an ADU, and spend a few hours yelling ohsheeeit as if it’s a single, nine-syllable word.
The quality parents in our neighborhood seem to be able to sense anytime a vehicle breaches the 6 MPH threshold, so I should gather a crowd pretty fast. They may come over with strongly worded emails in their hearts, but one glimpse of Shane van Gisbergen and hometown hero Jimmy Johnson guzzling the last remaining drops of gasoline on the planet in a dazzling display of carmanship—they’ll join my NASCAR pop-up party.
By the time my daughter brings her friends over, we’ll have a real welcoming committee. I’ll set a special lawn chair out for the nice young boy who bought her flowers on her birthday. Have a Dew and talk to me about yourself and please list out your morals alphabetically, kid, I’ll say.
Because, like I said, my daughter tried to steal my car.
She wasn’t going to Mexico. But while Claire and I were off doing businessy stuff to afford the teen’s skincare rituals, she and a friend decided to teach themselves stick shift. She’s never driven a stick before. I’m not saying she has, but if she has driven a vehicle at all—it would have been done in a remote, abandoned parking lot where the only possible thing she could destroy was the concept of driving itself.
But a couple TikTok videos later, she and her friends felt a certain level of mastery had been achieved, and they gave it a go. They backed our VW Bug out of the garage with a series of stalls and transmission seizures, and managed to get it into the carport, attempting to do “donuts.” That’s when I got a call from a resident, who had taken an active interest in this experiment.
Which got me wondering about the power and might of vehicles. Turns out, even at carport speeds there exists a bit of potential fireworks. A garage door could become not a garage door anymore. At 145 MPH on Naval Base Coronado this weekend (don’t worry, they slow down to 100 MPH for turns), NASCAR drivers are essentially doorbell ditching gods. I didn’t register the temperature after my daughter’s trial run, but the track at NASCAR races usually hits a cool 130-150 degrees, enough to lightly sear some Nikes (the tires themselves hover in the 200 degree range).
And that is at least part of our fascination with NASCAR (the other fascination is the legendary pit parties, which either set humanity back a few evolutionary links, or advance it by the same amount of links). These drivers take something us adults do every day in a very efficient, boring way and take it to its extreme impulse. Grace and precision at the thunderous edge of shit going terribly wrong. Most of us have, upon seeing the price of California gas, wanted to pile our worldly possessions into a Honda Pilot and see how fast we could make it to our new home in Vegas. So NASCAR drivers are acting on our own wildest impulse.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
In a sport obsessed with prestige, a San Diego–born golf brand is betting on something more fun and less fussy
Music drifts across the fairway. Someone’s in flip flops. The Pacific flashes in the distance. Sun peeks onto shoulders through the palm trees. It’s spring, technically, but the air reads suspiciously like summer. At the par-3 course at Liberty Station, the longest hole barely stretches past 120 yards, and no one looks particularly interested in becoming the next PGA legend.
This is where Sunday Golf was born.
“I got dragged to a par-3 course in 2019 —The Loma Club—and it was way more my jam,” says Ronan Galvin, CEO and co-founder of Sunday Golf, a company that makes lightweight golf bags for players who’d rather carry less and laugh more. “It was a lot different than the stereotypical ideas you have about golf where it’s kind of long, uptight, and exclusive.”
Galvin spent over a decade in the golf industry working in product development, sourcing and manufacturing. But he didn’t grow up swinging clubs. Basketball and football were more his speed. What clicked for him was a simpler, more relaxed kind of play: shorter rounds and weekend games built for fun rather than formality. The kind of golf that resonated for him felt accessible, effortless, and surprisingly his lifestyle.

He noticed something else, too.
On a course where five clubs do the job, players were still lugging 14. So Galvin built something smaller. Lighter. A bag designed specifically for par-3 rounds, the Loma Bag is sleek, functional, and refreshingly unfussy. It’s practical minimalism in a sport known for excess.
Sunday Golf was slated to launch in January 2020. Then, COVID hit. Shipments stalled; lost at sea. The future felt shaky. But the series of catastrophes for the young company turned out to be anything but: By the time inventory arrived that August, golf had become one of the few activities people could safely do.
“It introduced and brought so many people back to the game,” Galvin says. “It created a habit for a lot of people, which is a big reason golf is on its growth trajectory.”
It turns out Americans can’t get enough of golf. Forty-eight million of them swung clubs last year, a 41 percent jump since 2019, and the National Golf Foundation says the total could top 50 million by the end of 2026.
The brand rode this unlikely momentum. Since 2021, Sunday Golf has expanded into larger lightweight bags and continues evolving from there. A major reason for the company’s success is its approachability, a value so central that it’s literally written on the office walls in the form of the company’s guiding mission: “Get 500,000 golfers having more fun by 2027.” This goal is measured, fittingly, by golf bags sold.
Sunday Golf has already passed 300,000 bags sold.
But the numbers aren’t the point.

“To remind the world that life is meant to be enjoyed,” Galvin says of the brand’s why. In an era dominated by screens, golf offers something analog. “People are outside, touching grass with their friends. A golf bag is a golf bag, but our products are vehicles to help support that.”
Unlike legacy golf giants promising proximity to Rory McIlroy-level greatness, Sunday Golf leans into what Galvin jokingly calls “diet golf” or “golf light”—weekend rounds, driving range sessions, company scrambles. The bags are built for the casual golfer, and the fit feels obvious.
That philosophy resonates across Southern California, where year-round sunshine means golf courses never really hibernate for winter. As Galvin puts it, “the laid-back lifestyle of San Diego kind of seeps into everyone’s veins.”
Sometimes the validation arrives via email: a 76-year-old customer is able to walk the course again because their golf bag is lighter. Parents are able to take their children out with Sunday Golf’s kids line.
For Galvin, that’s the real win. Not perfection. Not prestige. Just more people outside, enjoying themselves. In San Diego, that might be the most natural mission of all.
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
Announcing a partnership between Art & Design District, SDFC Playmakers, and San Diego Magazine
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
SAN DIEGO, CA — [June 15th, 2026] — Art plus story equals culture. Today, three local groups deeply invested in advancing San Diego arts and culture— San Diego FC Playmakers, Art & Design District, and San Diego Magazine—have joined forces to tell its stories.
The initial project will be a landmark September edition of San Diego Magazine—fully dedicated to the people, ideas, and identities of the city’s creative community. After its release, those stories and more will extend across six months of integrated digital, social, and multi-platform coverage. Art & Design District and SDFC Playmakers will serve as co-publishers of the expanded editorial vision.
The Art & Design District is evolving into San Diego’s first home for the performing arts at iconic downtown venues like the Civic Theatre and Jacobs Music Center alongside research and development programs focused on artist live/work spaces, galleries, studios, and New School of Architecture & Design.
“[The Art & Design District initiative] is a long-term investment in San Diego’s creative life and the creative workforce that powers our cultural experiences and creative industries here at home and across the world,” says Jonathan Glus, Prebys Senior Fellow for Art & Design in Residence at Downtown San Diego Partnership. “But infrastructure alone is not enough. The public needs to see, understand, and participate in what’s being built and why. Joining as co-publisher of this issue means helping ensure that the story of San Diego’s creative community—its artists, its institutions, its future—gets told at the level of ambition the moment requires.”
San Diego has entered a defining chapter in how the region invests in its creative community, with civic and philanthropic leaders working alongside artists, brands, institutions, and people to chart a new model of public-private support for arts and culture.
As digital co-publishers of San Diego Magazine‘s arts and culture coverage, SDFC’s Playmakers partnership will include a six-month integrated collaboration designed to sustain the visibility of San Diego’s creative community well beyond a single issue.
“The Playmakers program was built on the belief that the creative community is essential to what makes San Diego, San Diego,” says Sebastian, San Diego FC’s SVP of Brand and Innovation. “Investing in local media that tells those stories—and reaches the audiences who need to hear them—is one of the most direct ways we can support the artists, organizations, and cultural leaders shaping this city’s future. We’re proud to step in as digital co-publishers of San Diego Magazine‘s arts and culture coverage and the founding partner of this new editorial program.”
Under the partnerships:
The partnership represents a new model for regional media: civic and cultural institutions providing the resources required for sustained, ambitious, local editorial media focused on the neighborhoods it serves.
“For 78 years, the magazine has told the story of arts and culture here,” says Claire Johnson, CEO of San Diego Magazine. “But the fragmentation of traditional media has made it harder than ever to cover this community at the depth and scale it deserves. SDFC Playmakers and the Art & Design District have recognized something critical: Media is not separate from the civic conversation, it’s the stage for the conversation.”
San Diego Magazine retains full editorial control over all reporting, features, and original content produced under both partnerships.
“Our role in this ecosystem is to tell the story of San Diego’s culture and provide context for our readers.” says Johnson. “These partnerships give us the resources to do justice to that responsibility—and to extend that commitment well beyond a single issue. Our readers also deserve to know exactly how this work was funded. I’m grateful to our partners, and to the arts and culture community in San Diego for letting us tell this story.”
The September Arts & Culture Issue will be released early September 2026, with digital, social, video, and podcast coverage rolling out through early 2027.
ABOUT SAN DIEGO MAGAZINE For 78 years, San Diego Magazine has been the region’s leading lifestyle and culture publication, reaching approximately 6 million readers monthly across print, digital, newsletter, and social platforms. Owned and operated locally, the magazine has been the connective tissue of San Diego’s cultural conversation since 1948.
ABOUT SDFC PLAYMAKERS The Playmakers program is an ongoing initiative that seeks to identify and showcase the talent of San Diego creatives who are contributing to the culture, substance, and flow of our community. We want to bring the San Diego community together by marrying football and creativity to provide a platform for these Playmakers who are positively impacting our culture by pushing the boundaries through innovative ideas. The goal is to create a program that consistently provides growth and exposure opportunities for San Diego creatives, while shaping an authentic direction for San Diego FC’s brand and community-building process. Through this program we hope to contribute to the creative fabric of our city by providing paid jobs, projects, collaborations, as well as networking opportunities for Playmakers.
ABOUT THE ART & DESIGN DISTRICT The Art & Design District is a Downtown San Diego Partnership initiative, supported by the Prebys Foundation, working to shape a connected, vibrant arts and design district in downtown San Diego. Led by Art and Culture Expert Fellow Jonathan Glus, the initiative convenes artists, cultural leaders, civic stakeholders, and residents in service of a downtown that reflects the creativity, identity, and diversity of the region. Learn more at downtownsandiego.org.
Stake Chophouse & Bar brings contemporary classics and old-school service to the heart of Coronado
Stake Chophouse & Bar isn’t your average steakhouse. Blue Bridge Hospitality’s Coronado outpost is a modern interpretation of a big-city steakhouse nestled in the heart of the small coastal community. The team at Stake has reimagined the whole steakhouse experience. By prioritizing a seasonal farm-to-table sourcing philosophy, a personalized guest experience, and unique service touches, like a formal steak presentation and a bespoke knife selection process, Stake distinguishes itself in a sea of steakhouses.
Exceptional steaks, including Wagyu from Japan, Australia, and the U.S., and fresh seafood flown in daily form the core of Stake’s culinary identity. The menu features a five-course omakase-style steak experience highlighting house favorites, plus an array of cuts, and classic steakhouse staples—think a wedge salad, baked potato, or pasta carbonara—refined for a contemporary palate without losing their traditional appeal. Stake focuses on seasonal sourcing from the region’s best family farms and specialty purveyors, and incorporates intentionally unexpected touches to create something truly unique.
“I challenge our chefs and myself to take it a step further in sourcing,” says Chef Ronnie Schwandt. “It’s important to us to highlight different farms, unique one-off farms—whether it’s cattle, strawberries, a local fisherman or from anywhere in the United States, we’re always trying to find that niche.”
Beyond the menu, Stake emphasizes outstanding service, says Vinny Spatafore, Director of Hospitality Operations. Staff maintains detailed notes, allowing them to remember guests by name, recall previous orders such as a favorite martini (also memorable for the customer since it’s served in an extra tall, distinctly-shaped glass), and celebrate special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries.
“When you have those points of topic that you remember about a guest, they appreciate that,” he says. “Our servers are really good with that—we have a couple servers who have been here since the beginning and they’ll remember somebody from years ago, their name, their kids’ names, where they live. I’m really thankful to have a great front of house staff.”
Award-winning wines, rare whiskeys, special events, and a complementary black car service that provides transportation for guests throughout Coronado add to Stake’s appeal.
Schwandt stresses that Stake offers more than a meal; they aim to give patrons something unforgettable.
“It starts when you walk up the stairs and are greeted by the hostess—that sets the tone for the night. Then you’re greeted by a server, who may know you by name, and can guide you through the menu and curate as they get to know you,” says Schwandt. “Most people leave kind of blown away; they leave feeling like they just had an experience. That’s the goal, right? Whether you’re serving smash burgers or high-end steak, you want somebody to leave thinking, Wow, that was awesome.”
Discover eateries, outings, and shops within this inland North County community
Just south of Lake Hodges near 4S Ranch and Poway, Rancho Bernardo is a suburban community that blends residential neighborhoods with industrial pockets, elevated by a decidedly diverse food scene.
Over 60 years ago, this North County neighborhood was once part of a family ranch. Since that time, big tech companies have taken up residence here, including Amazon, Sony Electronics, Oura Ring, HP, Teradata, and ASML. Rancho Bernardo Inn serves as a community hub, with locals frequently meeting at the hotel’s restaurants, golf course, and spa.
Whether it’s work or a round of golf that brings you to Rancho Bernardo, we’ve taken care of the agenda planning with our guide to the area’s best restaurants, activities, and shops.

Sample ingredients plucked straight from Rancho Bernardo Inn’s onsite garden and served at their signature restaurant Avant. One of the neighborhood’s most upscale dining options, they serve a French-inspired menu with nods to California, including many seafood options. Don’t miss their more casual sister restaurant Veranda for al fresco dining.
17550 Bernardo Oaks Drive
Wood-fired pizzas and handmade pastas are standouts at The Kitchen, Bernardo Winery’s counter-service restaurant specializing in Sicilian flavors. Charcuterie boards and bruschetta make for great starters or snacks while wine tasting.
13330 Paseo Del Verano Norte
Fast-casual and family-owned eatery Bushfire Kitchen recently opened a location in Rancho Bernardo, serving sandwiches, bowls, salads, burgers, protein plates, and housemade empanadas. Bushfire prepares comfort food with healthy ingredients, and offers plenty of vegetarian and vegan options.
11962 Bernardo Plaza Drive, Suite 110
Some might call The Cork & Craft an overachiever. This gastropub has an in-house craft brewery and winery: Abnormal Beer and Wine. The more, the merrier. Their sushi menu is definitely worth exploring, but don’t miss other specialties like garlic noodles, chicken wings, and pork belly.
16990 Via Tazon

You don’t have to leave Rancho Bernardo to get a white tablecloth steakhouse experience. Carvers Steaks & Chops has prime rib (their best seller), filet, ribeye, porterhouse, New York strip, and other cuts, served alongside crab-stuffed mushrooms, wedge salad, French onion soup, potato skins, and other steakhouse specialties.
1940 Bernardo Plaza Drive
This no-frills Burmese restaurant is known for its traditional tea leaf salad that’s topped with sesame and sunflower seeds, garlic chips, peanuts, tomatoes, jalapeños, fried yellow beans, and fermented green tea leaf dressing. Tucked into a nondescript strip mall, Burma Place is a great takeout option when you want to eat garlic noodles, fried rice, chicken curry, and samosas from the comfort of your couch.
16719 Bernardo Center Drive, Suite A
Find authentic Vietnamese cuisine at Phở Ca Dao, including favorites like phở noodle soup, vermicelli noodles, broken rice dishes, and spring rolls. One of eight locations throughout San Diego, this family-owned chain uses robot servers for food delivery.
11808 Rancho Bernardo Road, Suite 100
It’s all about the sauce at fast-casual Mediterranean restaurant The Kebab Shop. Smothering your chicken shawarma, gyro, or falafels in garlic yogurt, cilantro jalapeno, fire chili, and dill yogurt sauce is practically a rite of passage. The hardest part is deciding whether to order a wrap, bowl, or salad.
11980 Bernardo Plaza Drive
Get a taste of South Asian flavors at Casa Lahori, a Pakistani restaurant noted for its grilled meat kabobs. Other best-selling dishes include beef nihari, chicken biryani, and shahi paneer— best enjoyed with naan bread.
11975 Bernardo Plaza Drive
Grill your own meat on the tabletop at Kangnam Korean BBQ, an interactive, all-you-can-eat experience that’s well-suited for large groups. Marinated beef bulgogi, grilled galbi short ribs, and spicy pork are served alongside traditional banchan dishes like kimchi, japchae glass noodles, and flavorful stews. Weekday lunch specials provide a nice discount on these filling meals.
11828 Rancho Bernardo Road, Suite 117–119

Dig in to your favorite curries and kebabs at Curry & More Indian Bistro. Most entrees are served with a choice of two side dishes, including basmati rice, potatoes with cumin, daal, naan, or mixed greens. Help offset the spice with one of their sweet mango or strawberry lassi drinks.
11808 Rancho Bernardo Road, Suite 123
Kai Oliver-Kurtin is a San Diego-based writer who covers travel, dining, events, and culture. Her writing has been published in USA Today, Condé Nast Traveler, Fodor's Travel, Marie Claire, and HuffPost, among others.
From San Diego’s coastline to Los Angeles stadium and fan zones across the region, here’s how to experience soccer’s biggest event
When three nations and 16 cities come together to host the FIFA World Cup 2026, the scale stops feeling like a tournament and starts feeling like geography. A continent becomes the stage as borders soften into corridors. And Southern California—shaped by migration, sport, entertainment, and constant movement—sits inside that landscape with all eyes on it.
San Diego and Los Angeles have always felt connected. Hop on the Pacific Surfliner, and the trip unfolds in one continuous stretch of coastline, passing beach towns, neighborhoods, and city centers.
Traveling from San Diego, everything still feels slightly suspended as the Pacific Surfliner follows the coast north with ocean on one side and a slow suburban blur on the other. San Diego stays in exhale. Los Angeles is already building toward something louder.
This summer, Los Angeles will host eight matches of the FIFA World Cup at Los Angeles Stadium, including the US Men’s National Team opener on June 11, while the region stretches into 39 days of programming across stadiums, parks, transit hubs, beaches, and neighborhoods. Instead of one massive fan hub, Los Angeles is embracing a citywide celebration, with fan zones spread across its entirety.
But this pattern has been rehearsed here for decades. In 1994, Southern California became one of the defining stages of the World Cup, when matches at the Rose Bowl placed global attention on the region and turned local stadiums into international landmarks, confirming its ability to hold the world at scale.
What distinguishes Southern California is not just infrastructure, but cultural permeability. Fashion, music, film, art, and sport constantly overlap here, creating an environment where identity is flexible and always in motion. From the Venice boardwalk, where skate culture shaped modern street style, to global soccer stars rubbing shoulders with Hollywood celebs, to authentic Spanish cuisine moving up and down the I-5 corridor, everything circulates.
The World Cup is not introducing anything new here, it’s showing up for the summer and showing out, revealing what this city has always known about itself. What follows is a look at the fan zones and how Los Angeles turns itself into a city-wide stage for the tournament, one neighborhood at a time.

As the heart of Los Angeles, Union Station is an official Fan Zone June 25-28 during the World Cup, but in practice it never really stops being one.
It is the city’s circulation point, its meeting ground, its pressure valve. Commuters, travelers, match-day crowds, and everyday Angelenos all move through the same space, and everything mixes, overlaps, and scales in real time. In a way, this is where the World Cup stops arriving in Los Angeles and starts moving through it.
The Pacific Surfliner from San Diego to Los Angeles makes that shift feel almost too easy. No stress or gridlock anxiety, just a straight line up the coastline with ocean on one side and everything slowly becoming more built on the other. It’s one of the rare ways into LA that doesn’t feel like arrival as friction. You can sit with a laptop, watch the Pacific drift past, grab coffee from the café car, and let the city come to you in pieces.
That’s the beauty of arriving at Union Station. Instead of feeling like you’re on the edge of the city, you’re immediately surrounded by it. And, inside, the station already reads like a World Cup nerve center: banners, movement, multilingual energy, the sense that something global is about to funnel through this exact point. The Heart of the City Fan Zone only sharpens that feeling, with simultaneous match screens, DJ sets, meet and greets, and immersive activations built around marquee games like USA vs. Türkiye.
From there, the city splits outward.
ROW DTLA feels like the first exhale after arrival. A converted industrial campus turned creative district where restaurants, retail, and open-air courtyards form a self-contained ecosystem. If you’re looking for the perfect first meal in LA, make it lunch at Pizzeria Bianco. The thin-crust pizza is reason enough to go, but the space leaves just as much of an impression.
What I liked most about ROW DTLA is how quickly it resets you after the train. One minute you are stepping off at Union Station, and the next you are in a space that feels like its own version of LA, a city inside a city with some of the most curated shopping I’ve ever seen.
Bodega hides itself behind a convenience-store front, a sneaker and streetwear space disguised as something ordinary, like LA refusing to make anything feel too obvious. The whole campus moves like that, part retail, part gallery, part neighborhood you are only temporarily inside.
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
Scripps study shows that some patients may be able to taper their dose and maintain results
While glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1) receptor agents have been used to treat Type 2 diabetes for more than 20 years, their recent emergence as weight-loss wonder drugs marked a new frontier in medicine. But their effectiveness has left some patients wondering what to do once they’ve reached their goal. Stopping the medication could mean regaining some, if not all, of the weight. A Scripps Clinic internal medicine physician recently conducted a small study of whether GLP-1 patients who had reached their goal weight could maintain that weight by taking their regularly prescribed injection every other week instead of weekly. Spoiler alert: 30 of 34 patients did. Read more about the study here and what that may mean as pharmaceutical companies roll out oral GLP-1s.
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